When You Have Power
by Sasswolf-Hale
Summary: Jerica/AU. Twelve years ago, Jackson only cared about himself. Now, after a chance meeting, he's fighting to impress a girl that, once upon a time, didn't impress him. Rated M for later chapters.


**So, this story got started by it's last-ish scene. Everythign else is just a way to explain that scene. But this is for my friend Devin, who I'm pretty sure I made fangirl when I told her I had aJerica fic that was WIP. Lol. I hope you guys enjoy this one. And remember, REVIEWS=LOVE!**

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Erica hadn't expected anything quite so unusual in her life. As a child, she had never considered herself much different. But at only seven, her world was turned upside down. She'd started having seizures. She became the outcast because of her condition, and the medicine made it worse. Growing up had been such a pain. Constantly being ridiculed, laughed at, ignored, and bullied almost daily. And then, in middle school, some ass wipe had recorded her having one in class and posted it online. Her parents had sued the school and the student's family. The student was forced to take down his website and put on a probation, the parents of the student had paid a hefty price for grievances and harassment. Erica had never been the same after that. And then they had changed her middle school. It was there, at only thirteen, when she happened to meet Jackson Whittemore. She, like most of the girls in her school, had become smitten. She hadn't been particularly outstanding, and she wasn't like the others, hanging around him like they had leashes on. But she had always watched him. And Erica, observant as ever, learned things about him from afar.

She learned that he detested football but love lacrosse. She surmised it to the stress relief the violence of the game gave. She learned that he had a fondness for colognes like Armani and Calvin Klein. And being honest, she loved the smell of them when she had to sit next to him in class. It made her dizzy in a happy way. She learned that for the most part, he seemed much more concerned about his studies than which girl he could fuck, which was a refreshment to most of the Californian boys Erica observed. She figured out that all of his clothes, including that signature leather jacket, were all designer clothes. That his backpack was L. L. Bean and his was picked up in a Porsche every day after school. She longed to catch his eye, to do something significant that would make his blue eyes look at her and see her as more than a body walking by in the hall. But her seizures prevented it. So she learned how to balance out her medicine. Missing every other dose seemed to do the same, and her parents were clueless, so she kept it that way. When she was in the eighth grade, she ended up in science class with Jackson as a lab partner. She constantly had to keep from giggling like a madwoman every time she went to class. At the Secret Santa, Jackson ended up getting her a beautiful bracelet. It wasn't gaudy and full of diamonds. It was a simple charm bracelet, with a single crystal heart on it. She spent the rest of the year getting ready for high school, when she fully intended to ask Jackson to be her boyfriend.

The night before freshman year, she laid out a beautiful pair of dark jeans, a strapless, form fitting tank top, and a denim jacket. The next morning, she got up extra early, took an extra-long shower, straightened her hair and even did her make up for a change. She'd slipped on a pair of wedge heels, not liking the stilettos so many girls wore. She had walked to school since she lived a few blocks away. She went the entire day trying to figure out what she would say, how she would word, how she would stand, what she would do with her hands. The end of the school day came a bit too fast, and as she was leaving, she spotted Jackson by what could only be his Porsche. She liked to have died right then and there. But she gathered what little bravery she had and walked over to him. "Jackson!"

The other teen paused and looked at her as she stopped on the sidewalk. "Yeah?" he asked, seemingly uncaring or forgetful.

"Hey," Erica said, smiling sweetly.

"Hi," the male had said. "Can I help you with something?"

"Well, I was just wondering. You know, if you'd like to go out sometime." She said, giving a shy kind of shrug.

Jackson looked down and smiled, a light laugh escaping him. "Did the guys put you up to this?" he asked when he finally looked back up at her. His next action was to look around the parking lot of Beacon Hill High, as if expecting to see the boys he was practicing for lacrosse with laughing. He found no such thing, but shrugged it off and looked back at her. "Look, _sweetheart_, I have one thing to say. Do you have money?"

"I can't afford a Porsche, but-"

"Do you have power of any kind?"

Erica blinked, confused. "No." she said honestly, a sense of dread filling her. She watched as Jackson nodded thoughtfully, and adjusted her backpack a little as he looked back at her again.

"Do us both a favor. Come ask me out when you have power." This said, he patted the top of the open Porsche door and got into his car, pulling out and driving off, leaving Erica standing on the sidewalk with a dazed but broken heart. She looked down at her wrist, where the silver bracelet he'd bought for Secret Santa still hung, and practically marched home. Once she was inside, she went to her room. Scrubbing the makeup from her face, raking her hands through her hair to put it back in its mess, she flung herself on the bed and cried. She cried for hours until she passed out from sheer exhaustion, and after that, she never dressed up again.

At least not until she was asked a simple question.


End file.
